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Film: The Silent World
Year of production: 1956
UK Release date: 23rd May 2011
Distributor: Go Entertain
Certificate: E
Running time: 86 mins
Director: Jacques-Yves Cousteau & Louis Malle
Genre: Documentary
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Italy/France
Language: French
Review by: Rob Ward
Having inspired swathes of oceanographers and documentary makers from Steve Zissou to David Attenborough, Jacques Cousteau was a true trailblazer in the world of underwater filmmaking. And now, more than fifty years after its initial release, this groundbreaking feature is available for home audiences on DVD and Blu-ray. But in the face of modern technology and filming techniques, can Cousteau’s 1954 Oscar winner still hold its own?
Set on board the good ship Calypso, The Silent World follows Cousteau and co-director Louis Malle on their mission to capture the hitherto unseen beauty of the deeps on camera.
Filmed in glorious Technicolor, the film reveals the unseen world and a wealth of life which was brand new to the original audience.
Life on board the boat is both a voyage of discovery and an adventure, as the crew utilise aqualung technology to film deeper than ever before, capturing shark attacks, shipwrecks and a sense of boundless possibility…
The film opens with a stunning descent to the depths, as five bare-chested divers swim through a vivid blue expanse. Each carries a flaming torch, somehow burning despite being submerged. Huge gas plumes rise above them as the commentary announces that "this is a motion-picture studio 65 feet under the sea." It’s an intriguing opening, beautifully framed and impressive so many years after the event – largely because it leaves an audience accustomed to wetsuits and cutting edge diving equipment, wondering how it’s possible to survive and film at such depths with underwater flares and antiquated oxygen tanks.
The divers are compared to spacemen and it’s easy to see why. Their movements are not typically human and their environment is utterly alien. With the seabed illuminated by large floodlights, the blue water is punctuated by corals and crustaceans of bright reds and oranges – a natural contrast to the burning orange flares which previously lit their way. But upon surfacing, the crew become merely human again. And their humanity is in stark contrast to the natural beauty they left below the ocean’s surface.
Cousteau is a bronzed, hard-bodied figure. His leathery skin and lean frame make him look rather like one of the sea-creatures he seeks to film – and he’s seemingly less comfortable on deck than he is underwater. Despite giving a fascinating insight into the cameras and filming apparatus which allowed their early forays beneath the waves, it is the ethical and environmental choices made by Cousteau and his crew which jar with a modern audience.
Despite describing the ‘50s as a “golden age” for underwater exploration, much of Cousteau’s aim in this film seems to be the exploitation of the natural resources. Perhaps hindsight and greater knowledge of the natural world are responsible for the uncomfortable feeling which accompanies watching a man hitching a ride on a turtle or dynamiting a coral reef, but it’s impossible to imagine that someone as well versed in the relationship between mankind and marine life failed to realise how wrong it is to interfere in such a way. And such misgivings are nothing compared to those which accompany the film’s most disturbing scene...
Following a huge pod of sperm whales, the Calypso follows them through the ocean. Sadly, a young calf is pulled under the boat and into its propellers. Bleeding heavily, it is unlikely to survive, so Cousteau makes the decision to pull it alongside the ship and put it out of its misery by shooting it. The water around the ship is red with blood and, predictably, begins to attract sharks. These scavengers of the sea tear the whale to pieces. Whilst this might be difficult for some viewers to watch, it is not nearly as uncomfortable as seeing the Calypso’s crew dragging these sharks onto the boat’s deck and hacking at them with axes and crowbars.
It’s a sickeningly unnecessary display of vengeance. But what are they seeking revenge for? Animals attacking and eating an animal which has already died – and at their hands? Whilst the footage is dramatic, it is utterly contrived and completely barbaric. It serves no purpose, and even their relative lack of knowledge cannot defend them against accusations of opportunism and bloodlust.
Punctuating the documentary are some truly excruciating scenes of ‘faux reality’. Much like those seen in reality TV pap like The Only Way Is Essex, The Silent World features some heightened versions of reality. Rehearsed and acted, these come across as being uncomfortable and unnatural for everyone involved. It’s a shame that the conventions of the time didn’t allow for a more realistic portrayal of everyday events – the watching audience would have been afforded a much more interesting window into the truth of Cousteau’s adventures were it not for these parodies of reality.
There are some wonderful episodes, though. A pod of dolphins is captured playfully swimming alongside the Calypso, and an underwater wreck is explored in exquisite and understated detail. Combined with Cousteau’s infectious (although often misplaced) enthusiasm, this ensures that there is enough of interest here to ensure that it remains a historically and cinematically interesting piece.
The Silent World is little more than a period piece, serving to remind us how far our knowledge and understanding of the natural world has developed in the last half century. Whilst Cousteau shone a light on how fascinating life in the oceans is, he never really illuminated it. That this was due to ignorance or the lack of necessary technology is a moot point: whilst we have the likes of the BBC producing nature programmes like The Blue Planet, we will only ever need to view Jacques Cousteau as relic and a reminder of how far we’ve come. RW
Film: Benda Bilili!
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 16th May 2011
Distributor: Trinity
Certificate: 12
Running time: 86 mins
Director: Renaud Barret & Florent de La Tullaye
Genre: Documentary
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Democratic Republic of the Congo/France
Language: Lingala/French
Review by: Rob Ward
Staff Benda Bilili were a sensational hit at international music festival WOMAD in 2010 and have scooped up world music prizes at festivals and shows across Europe. But their success did not come easily. Benda Bilili! charts their remarkable journey from homelessness on the streets of Kinshasa, Congo to the release of their first album and subsequent tour. What makes their journey still more remarkable is that the majority of the group are paraplegic.
Renault Barret and Florent de La Tullaye’s documentary charts the journey taken by the group from their rehearsals in Kinshasa zoo through the making of their album Tres Tres Fort, the recruitment of charismatic frontman Roger and their journey through Europe.
Originally conceived as a video-blog to accompany the record, the various setbacks and crisis’s which beset the project meant that the increasingly dramatic narrative and charismatic cast of characters demanded it be turned into a feature length release…
The film opens with the group living a hand-to-mouth existence in a cramped and ramshackle shelter. Struck with polio, many of them are crippled from the waist down: their withered limbs hang limp beneath their bodies. It’s immediately apparent, however, that their physical disabilities will not handicap them: the opening scene is a joyous dance by a smiling man carrying all his weight on his flip-flop clad hands. It’s an energetic opening and a masterful piece of editing – the audience is informed from the outset that this is a documentary which will see obstacles overcome by an inspiring cast.
Chief among these is Papa Ricky, band leader and surrogate father. He’s a thoroughly engaging presence. Gentle and sweet voiced, yet cynical and hard edged. His devotion to his band is absolute – at various points he puts them ahead of his family – but only as he sees the group as offering hope and salvation to so many. His family will hopefully benefit, too, from the ‘dough’ which eventually rolls in through royalties. He’s afforded respect by all those around him – perhaps due to the protective net he casts around those closest to him. When he is crossed by a ‘villager’ who stares at the camera crew, they are given a fearful tongue lashing. It’s a powerful and unexpected display of his personality and one the camera crew would have been delighted to have captured.
Despite the fatherly affections of Ricky, it’s clear that the members of Staff Benda Bilili are more than capable of self-sufficiency. Hand-pedalling around Kinshasa on their modified tricycles, they look like distant cousins of Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda’s Easy Riders. Their resilience and ability to find joy in their difficult lives is truly inspirational. A wonderful illustration of this occurs at a ‘football’ match played between fellow polio sufferers. Unable to use their legs, they slalom around the dusty pitch on their hands, colliding at speed with one another yet demonstrating enormous skill. When a goal is scored with an acrobatic flying volley, a spontaneous pitch invasion occurs. It’s a lovely moment, as daily hardship is forgotten in an outpouring of unbridled joy.
In the main, Barret and de La Tullaye’s style is to remain as invisible as possible. They stay away from the action and offer little in the way of exposition. A brief voiceover explains their role as facilitators and financers, but, otherwise, they are not seen or heard. This hands-off approach serves the piece very well, as the inhabitants of Kinshasa are more than capable of making their thoughts and feelings known - and the action is more than capable of speaking for itself.
The directors do, sadly, take a couple of wrong turns. There are two scenes in the documentary which feel rather contrived. The first, a discussion of religion and the role of Adam and Eve in the creation of sin seems unlikely between the teenage protagonists and has a whiff of political agenda about it. Still more staged is a conversation between two youngsters about Europe. Although it contains some poetic ideas and imagery – not least comparing being stuck in Congo with being like caged birds – it jars badly. The film makes its point extremely eloquently without needing to resort to cheap (and obvious) fakery like this.
Letting the action speaks for itself certainly serves Barret and de La Tullaye well in the film’s most poignant scene. With the band away from home recording their album, their shelter burns to the ground. Nothing can be saved. Letting the stark truth linger as they record a phone-call between Ricky and his wife is understated filmmaking at its best. And Ricky’s stoic reaction is typical of a man with an utter conviction in the redemptive power of the music he creates.
The only other character who can rival Ricky in the charisma stakes is Roger. Discovered aged 12, he grows up on screen over the course of the five years it took to film Benda Bilili! and his journey is the most remarkable of all. He was discovered by the directors playing his santonge: an instrument devised by Roger himself, consisting of an empty tin can, a wooden handle and a guitar string. It’s capable of an amazing range of tones and Roger is a virtuoso at playing it. Charting Roger’s adolescence is arguably the filmmaker’s greatest achievement. The only time they refer back to the past is when they cut a scene of the 12-year-old Roger into later footage. It’s a brilliantly effective way of showing exactly how far he’s come from precocious child to Hendrix-aping frontman.
Having being filmed over such a long period of time, it’s possible to see and hear the maturing of Staff Benda Bilili very clearly. As well as Roger growing up in front of the camera, the band’s music improves noticeably over the length of the documentary. Their hilarious, perennially stoned and thoroughly uplifting journey into the unknown world of Europe is wonderfully documented and punctuated by powerful and polished performances in front of adoring crowds - and the Argentinean ambassador.
Benda Bilili! is a thoroughly uplifting documentary about an inspirational group of people who’ve transcended disability, poverty and hardship to triumph against the odds. It’s telling that this charismatic and charming group grabbed the attention of the directors from the outset and practically forced them to make this wonderful film. Filled with brilliant music and colourful characters, it’s a remarkable, life-affirming and uplifting. RW
Film: Enter The Void
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 25th April 2011
Distributor: Trinity/eOne
Certificate: 18
Running time: 142 mins
Director: Gaspar Noé
Starring: Natheniel Brown, Paz de la Huerta, Cyril Roy, Masato Tanno, Olly Alexander
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France/Germany/Italy/Canada
Language: English/Japanese
After the visceral brutality and sexual violence of Irreversible, Gaspar Noe has carved a niche for himself as a maverick with a singular artistic vision – and as a filmmaker who is utterly unafraid of controversy. Enter The Void is no exception, charting drug-use, death and explicit sex in a lurid explosion of neon, banging beats and nausea-inducing camera work.
Telling the tale of unwitting Tokyo drug dealer Oscar (Nathaniel Brown), Noe places the audience smack in the middle of the action. Making a delivery, Oscar is killed within minutes of the opening. His soul hovers momentarily over his corpse, as it takes in the ensuing carnage, and then moves away from reality and into the metaphysical world as it explores Oscar’s life, travelling the space and time on the journey which has ultimately ended in his untimely demise – and will conclude with his inevitable reawakening…
Blasting onto the screen, the movie opens with a dazzling title sequence. It’s a hyperkinetic surge of colourful graphics and throbbing techno which burns the cast and crew’s names onto the audience’s retinas. From the outset it’s clear that Noe’s intent is to make a striking impact – and he certainly does.
Rather than continuing in this garish and cartoonish vein, however, the opening scene moves away from vibrancy and colour into a muted colour palate and a more sedate pace. Placing the audience squarely in the scene, Noe utilises a first-person perspective as the world is seen through Oscar’s eyes. He makes small talk with his sister Linda (Paz de la Huerta), smokes drugs and talks Buddhism with a friend. It’s dreamy, hazy and, at times, uncomfortable viewing – the swirling, see-sawing motion of the camera induces a motion sickness which is an entirely deliberate ploy to draw the audience quickly into Oscar’s stoned state of mind.
But just as quickly as you become accustomed to Oscar’s worldview, his perspective is transformed: he’s shot dead by police. As his soul leaves his body, it is transported above the action, and from here it takes on a new life, as it swoops and soars above the city. Brilliant camera work – particularly airborne tracking shots above Tokyo - and some fantastic editing allow Oscar’s soul o glide through the city and streets, and pass through walls and ceilings as he observes his stripper sister having sex with her lover, his own corpse being moved by police and his friend Alex (Cyril Roy) distraught at what has happened. It’s thrillingly voyeuristic stuff.
Sadly what follows this dreamy, exhilarating opening is not nearly as creative or as interesting. Instead we revisit Oscar's life via a montage of interlinked flashback sequences. Like the rest of Enter The Void, they are slightly surreal, but their style is much more prosaic and predictable. Despite that, Noe still manages to create some arresting visual images and some interesting thematic ideas. But above all else, what shines through is some sloppy symbolism and some shoddy acting.
Initially the flashback sequences looks at Oscar's relationship with his sister. Mixing and merging scenes of their childhood and adolescence with scenes of their adult lives introduces, it creates the idea of a creepily incestuous relationship. Some overwrought and clumsy scenes of the siblings kissing, bathing and swimming with their mother are cut with images of Linda breastfeeding. The characters (and their ages) become interchangeable and it's, quite frankly, absurd.
Given his ubiquitous presence throughout this sequence, it's sad to find that Nathaniel Brown as Oscar is simply not an actor cut out to carry a film. He's wooden, to say the least, and his slacker accent and low key voice are almost lost in the aural wall which Noe builds around his action. Most of the performances are mannered to say the least. Paz de la Huerta pitches Linda somewhere between childhood naivety and permanently high in a performance which grates slightly. Arguably the best of the bunch is Cyril Roy as Oscar’s artist friend Alex - he at least sounds a note of realism.
With such inconsequential and irritating characters, the narrative also needs to be stronger to carry the film. The recurring motif of The Tibetan Book of the Dead hints clunkily and clumsily at exactly where the plot is going. There was simply no need to paint-by-numbers for an audience who would have been well capable of discerning the plot’s deeper meanings without signposting them so obviously.
It’s left to a series of set pieces to provide what remains of interest as the storyline becomes increasingly uninteresting and domesticated in the aftermath of Oscar’s death. These set-pieces invariably centre on female nudity – and some of them are more original than others. A graphically seedy orgy certainly pales into insignificance compared to a horrific scene in a hospital operating theatre and the never-before-seen vaginal penetration shot which features in one scene. Whether this intimate camera work constitutes good cinema or not is highly debatable. But it’s certainly original – and provides a fitting climax.
Enter The Void is beautifully, skilfully and inventively crafted. But it is a triumph of style over substance. All the clever camerawork and amazing editing in the world cannot save the film from its plodding plot, overwrought symbolism and unconvincing acting. There’s a good movie in here somewhere, but Gasper Noe hasn’t made it yet. RW
Film: The Tunnel
Year of production: 2001
UK Release date: 25th April 2011
Distributor: Second Sight
Certificate: 12
Running time: 160 mins
Director: Roland Suso Richter
Starring: Nicolette Krebitz, Heino Ferch, Sebastian Koch, Alexandra Maria Lara
Genre: Action/Drama/History/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Germany
Language: German
Originally created as a German TV mini-series, The Tunnel has been re-cut and re-packaged as a movie for DVD release outside of its homeland. It’s testament to the quality of the production most audiences would be none the wiser about the film’s origins. But does the change of emphasis lead to a worthy release or is this is misguided premise?
Based on a true story, The Tunnel focuses on 1961 Berlin, as the East/West wall is hurriedly constructed families and friends are split on the grounds of geography. Headstrong athlete Harry Melchior is caught on the East where he’s kept under close supervision thanks to his high profile and reputation as a troublemaker and political firebrand.
When Harry decides to make a break for the West, he is unable to take his beloved sister, Lotte, with him. His best friend, Matthis, faces a similar dilemma, as he is split from his wife Carola on their escape through the sewage system. United on the other side of the wall, the pair decide to sneak their loved ones over – or rather under – the border.
Assembling a group of like-minded rebels, Matthis and Harry put their professional skills to the test, as architect Matthis plans the tunnel construction and the athletic Harry provides the muscle necessary to dig through over a hundred metres of earth. With the authorities employing every underhand tactic in the book to uncover their plot, will they achieve their aims or will their plan collapse around them?
The driving force behind the narrative and the lead character as the action unfolds is Harry (Heino Ferch), a heroic and committed leader of men. His performance is excellent, as he imbues the character with a nobility and clarity of purpose which is altogether admirable. Sadly, this commitment to the cause means that there is little light or shade to the character and as a result he’s not entirely engaging.
Thankfully, the other characters are more nuanced and interesting. All the performances are strong, and even the occasional lurch into cliché or caricature doesn’t detract from their excellent acting. Sebastian Koch is very strong as the conflicted Matthis and the underutilised Fred really comes into his own as the film reaches its conclusion. Best of the bunch is Nicolette Krebitz as Fritzi.
Fritzi’s story is fairly predictable and her outcome obvious. But along the way her love-affair with Heiner (Florian Panzner), a boyfriend trapped on the other side of the wall, is the source of the most poignant and powerful scene in the movie. Fearing that their relationship is stuttering to a halt, Heiner makes a desperate attempt to join his lover on the West. What follows is a particularly moving scene as their relationship is literally and metaphorically divided by the Berlin Wall, which physically splits the screen and the couple.
Perhaps less subtle, but no less effective are the scenes in the tunnel. There are clear and obvious parallels to be drawn with The Great Escape, as the rebels attempt to cover their tracks whilst undertaking their enormous excavation. Unsurprisingly, they face problems like tunnel collapses and unexpected concrete obstacles, but these are dealt with efficiently by both the characters and the director. The sense of claustrophobia and peril is perhaps not as acute as it might be – the relatively spacious tunnel is a factor in this - but given the budgetary restraints inherent in this TV production it would be churlish to quibble with the set design.
Whilst the men in the story toil underground, their wives and families face investigation on the surface. Creepy Kruger (Uwe Kockisch) straddles the line between unthinking automaton and put-upon jobsworth carefully enough to create a genuinely tense series of double crosses, espionage and intimidation, which plays nicely alongside the honest integrity of the tunnellers.
Sadly, as the film reaches its denouement, it becomes increasingly preposterous and implausible. In a story ‘based’ on true events, it’s difficult to know where the truth ends and the embellishments begin, but there are some barely creditable twists (not least an NBC camera crew filming the action), turns and set-pieces in the final third of the movie. It’s a shame as they were really not necessary at all. The human drama here would have been more than sufficient to hold the audience’s interest without resorting to the action-packed ending provided.
There’s much to be admired here given that The Tunnel began life on television. But sadly a kind of ‘small screen’ mentality limits the film’s appeal in this version. It would be interesting to see what was removed in the cut – a little more focus on characters over action would certainly be beneficial. Having said that, the closing captions about the real people involved confirm this to be a worthy tale and one which has been steadily, but unspectacularly, presented. RW
Film: The Bridge
Release date: 4th April 2011
Certificate: PG
Running time: 188 mins
Director: Bernhard Wicki
Starring: Folker Bohnet, Fritz Wepper, Michael Hinz, Frank Glaubrecht, Karl Michael Balzer
Genre: Drama/War
Studio: Digital Classics
Format: DVD
Country: West Germany
With the world engulfed in conflict yet again, The Bridge offers an opportunity to revisit a familiar war from a different perspective. Here, World War Two is depicted from the point of view of the German public as they face the prospect of invasion from a foreign conqueror. From a British perspective there are clear parallels with the Blitzkrieg bombings which affected our cities and led to evacuations into the countryside.
Reportedly based upon actual events, the film focuses on a small German town during the latter stages of the Second World War. With the Allies advancing through the country, the townsfolk are rapidly deserting for the relative safety of their families in the countryside.
As the Allies grow closer and closer the German army becomes increasingly desperate to defend its territory and subsequently recruits a number of teenage schoolchildren into its ranks.
Stationed on the titular bridge, the boys are eventually cut off from the rest of the armed forces and are left to defend the location alone. How will war look from the point of view of the Germans? How will it affect the youngsters who’ve been asked to grow up so quickly? And how far will the newly recruited boys go in their brave defence of their homeland?
The movie opens with a lightning fast introduction to vast numbers of characters. Skipping quickly from one scene to another, we are shown the band of boys together in school and separately with their families. It’s a little too much, too soon. With similar costumes, builds and haircuts, it’s actually difficult to discern which character is which and the rapid cutting between them leads to confusion.
Each boy is ascribed a brief back-story of their own and this goes on to provide some context for their actions later on. Missing fathers are an obvious motivator for their later actions, and for most of the boys matriarchal figures feature strongly - this gives some suggestion as to why the camaraderie of their gang is so important to them. Other facets of these biographies work less effectively. There’s some melodramatic and rather unbelievable romantic subplots – not least poor Karl (Karl Michael Balzer) who discovers his father ‘in flagrante’ with one of his employees – a revelation which elicits howls of anguish so over-the-top as to be comical.
The pace settles slightly as the boys get together to build a boat, drink booze they find and banter and bully each other in the way you’d expect them to. And it’s at the point that the group become easier to warm to that notifications begin to arrive of their conscription to military service. It doesn’t stop the overacting from the cast, but it does mark the beginning of the more effective act of the movie.
As the boys take leave of their parents (some more fondly than others) they begin a new, grown-up chapter of their lives. Suddenly earlier scenes with mice smuggled into the classroom make more sense as their childhood innocence quickly evaporates thanks to the realities of war. Placing the boys into their more juvenile context is annoying initially but provides a base-point by which to establish their emotional journey and does so very effectively - but not as effectively as the first sight of the boys in their military uniforms.
The brutalities of combat are emphasised brilliantly by a conversation about pulling a bayonet out of a victim’s guts, which shocks some of the teenaged participants. It’s a far more efficient way of conveying the harsh realities than the laboured scene of moralising which precedes it as a concerned third party argues that the war is futile and that the loss of young life is unacceptable. Actions speak louder than words here and this scene might well have been cut without diluting the message.
Fearing that the children will get hurt it is decided to put them out of harm’s way by leaving them guarding a bridge which has no strategic importance. It’s a move born of sympathy for them but turns out to be one which does nothing to protect them in the long run. After an unforeseen (and not entirely plausible) twist of fate, the boys are left guarding the bridge against attack from the Americans and are exposed to truckloads of injured and maimed German soldiers retreating from the frontline.
As might be expected from a film made in the 1950s, the action presented here is not entirely believable, as both the acting style and special effects look particularly dated. But the human drama of the tale itself is undiminished by the passage of time. Called to commit acts which they might never have countenanced asks enormous questions of the young protagonists as they face up to tragedy, loss and challenges to their idealism. This part of the film is far and away the strongest and gives a real sense of the hopelessness and futility of war.
The Bridge is a film which has not aged well. The passage of fifty years and a whole raft of superior war films have made this production seem extremely dated and old fashioned. That said, it’s interesting to see a familiar war from an unfamiliar point of view, and the mature conclusion might be reason enough to persist through the melodramatic acting and convoluted plot which precedes it. RW
Film: Ambush 1941
Release date: 21st March 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 123 mins
Director: Olli Saarela
Starring: Peter Franzen, Irina Bjorklund, Kari Heiskanen, Taisto Reimaluoto, Kari Vaananen
Genre: Drama/War
Studio: Scanbox
Format: DVD
Country: Finland
Cinema has long been obsessed with war. For decades audiences have dined out on feasts of World War One and Two films, Vietnam movies, and more recently we’ve seen conflicts from the Middle East represented on the silver screen. Olli Saarela’s Ambush 1941 hits the home DVD market soon, bringing an unfamiliar war into our living rooms – the Continuation War between Finland and Russia.
In 1941, Finland is allied with Germany in the fight against the Russians. On the border, Lieutenant Eero Perkola (Peter Franzén) is awaiting the order for his platoon to head into the conflict.
As Eero and his platoon rest in a recently conquered village, he meets up with his fiancée Kaarina Vainikainen (Irina Björklund) – a nurse serving in the Women’s Auxiliary Corps. They spend their first night together after many apart – grateful that both have survived up to now.
Later, as Eero negotiates a return home for Kaarina, he volunteers to undertake a dangerous sortie into enemy territory: his platoon is to stage a reconnaissance mission searching for Russian positions in the wilderness near the Lieksa Lake.
During the course of the mission terrible news reaches Eero – news which has a devastating effect on his platoon, as he becomes increasingly indifferent about his own safety and that of his men…
The movie begins promisingly as Eero’s platoon reach the safety of a village with a hospital. Parking their bicycles (the preferred mode of transport for troops at the time), they seek respite from the fighting. Having already seen Eero gazing longingly at a photo of his lover, it is very apparent that their paths are set to cross very soon. And so it proves as they meet in the street.
Unfortunately, the love story between Eero and Kaarina fails to ignite the passion. A surprisingly tender and intimate sex scene is beautifully played and shot, but really it’s the only window we get into their relationship – other than some clunkily constructed flashbacks strewn haphazardly throughout the film. It’s underdeveloped and unsatisfying – a shame as Björklund seemed like a genuinely charismatic actress in the short time she spent on screen.
Perhaps as a result, it’s difficult to engage with Eero. He’s not an enormously pleasant character, and his humanity is only hinted at prior to him starting to emotionally unravel. With a not entirely convincing relationship as our only evidence of his caring nature, it’s hard to reconcile the idea of him as a heroic leader with the reality – that of a lieutenant who leads by example rather than through force of personality or charisma. The actor playing him, Peter Franzén, either performs extremely subtly or is rather inexpressive. It seems more like the latter until the film moves into the second half, when his emotions do become more apparent. Either way, it’s not a strong enough performance to carry the story, and the film suffers as a result.
The blame for that may lie partly in the scripting and direction of Ambush 1941. There’s a real lack of information as to what the character’s personal motivations are or – more importantly – what exactly the platoon’s mission is. The fact that the troops are rather rudderless undermines Eero’s position as leader. But it also undermines the clarity of the plot. Long before the end, the movie becomes unfocused – and it’s difficult to stay interested in a story which seems so aimless. It seems that prior knowledge of the Continuation War would have been beneficial. Perhaps the Finnish audience, for whom the film was originally intended, would be au fait with the details of the war, but for the uninitiated, it’s slightly confusing. Perhaps a few captions setting the scene prior to the action would have deepened the viewers’ understanding.
Although technically well made, it’s never a visually arresting film – it seems that Olli Saarela’s fall back technique when creating drama is to light his actors from underneath. It’s tried and tested but overused here. There are very few handsomely crafted scenes, but the few battles which take place employ far too much slow-motion. Strange cutaway scenes are also used within those fights – an idea which serves only to undermine any tension previously created.
Sadly, the majority of the other characters are just as difficult to warm to as Eero. The usual clichéd brigade of vulnerable youngsters, grizzled veterans and slightly unhinged soldiers form the core group around which the action centres. With such scant characterisation, it’s difficult to care what fate befalls them. It’s a major flaw of the movie that so little emotion can be invested in the men, and that lack of emotional involvement does the story a major disservice. Stronger, more believable characters might have papered over some of the cracks in the plot.
Not only are the platoon a predictable bunch, but so are some of the set-pieces. How many times have movie fans watched someone pinned down by enemy fire as their comrades struggle to help them? How many war movies have seen a prisoner of war become a cause of tension, arguments or violence? To its credit, Ambush 1941 certainly never shies away from portraying the brutal and cruel side of war. Unfortunately, whatever the film might have had to say about the Finnish/Russian conflict is lost amidst the hackneyed, colour-by-numbers approach to portraying the hardships and trials of war on screen.
A war movie with such a distinct focus on human drama needs to ensure that it can sustain the audience’s interest throughout. Despite featuring a ‘new’ conflict and some neat period touches, Ambush 1941 fails to grab the viewer. This kind of film has been made many times before – and often much more successfully. RW
Film: Norwegian Wood
Release date: 11th March 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 133 mins
Director: Tran Anh Hung
Starring: Kenichi Matsuyama, Rinko Kikuchi, Kiko Mizuhara, Reika Kirishima, Kengo Kora
Genre: Drama/Romance
Studio: Soda
Format: Cinema
Country: Japan
More than twenty years after Haruki Murakami’s novel was released, Vietnamese director Tran Anh Hung has turned Norwegian Wood into a feature film. Long considered unfilmable due to its introspective nature and inner dialogues, it was a brave move for Tran to take it on – especially as Murakami (and his fans) are famously protective of his work. But after a long dialogue with the author, the movie was given the green light. Have Tran and his cast done justice to the source material?
Set in 1960s Japan, Norwegian Wood focuses on 19-year-old Toru Watanabe and his relationships with two different women – the excitable, expressive Midori and the inward-looking, melancholic Naoko.
Naoko was Toru's best friend Kizuki's girlfriend, until Kizuki committed suicide at the age of 17. That tragedy that has led to Naoko suffering a breakdown: a depression which has led to her seeking refuge in a quiet country sanatorium.
Meanwhile, in Tokyo, Watanabe begins a flirtatious friendship with fellow student Midori, leaving him to negotiate his way through two complicated and contrasting relationships…
Opening with a quiet montage of Toru (Kenichi Matsuyama), Naoko (Rinko Kikuchi) and Kizuki (Kengo Kôra) playing pool and fooling around on a farm and eating an ice lolly, Tran quickly introduces the three central characters. That one of them will be almost entirely absent from the remainder of the movie, as Kizuki is seen committing a low-key and lonely suicide as he asphyxiates himself in his car (his presence permeates the action nonetheless). It’s an unusual way to begin a film, requiring little of the audience other than objective observation. With barely a hint of emotion expressed on screen, there is little opportunity to feel sympathy as might be expected. Instead, the audience is made immediately aware that the style of the film will be somewhat detached.
Central to the plot and style of the piece is Toru. He appears in almost every scene, yet barely seems to inhabit them. He’s something of a blank canvas, often expressionless and usually playing second fiddle to whichever other characters appear alongside him. It’s a strangely beguiling performance from Matsuyama, and he’s a likeable character despite doing very little in real terms. Instead, he provides the backdrop for the more intriguing performances which revolve around him.
The most interesting of these is Kiko Mizuhara as Midori. She’s certainly the most recognisably ‘normal’ character – lively, flirty and funny. Sadly, she’s underused and appears far too fleetingly. The same might also be said of Nagasawa (Tetsuji Tamayama). He’s enigmatic, interesting and amoral. Although his purpose is presumably to provide a moral barometer for Toru, the film would certainly have benefited by revealing more of him.
Although Toru’s relationships with Midori and Nagasawa are important, they play second fiddle to his dysfunctional friendship/courtship with Naoko. Following the suicide of Kizuki, Naoko has unravelled mentally. Following a tenderly filmed sex scene with Toru, she retreats into herself and eventually disappears to a country retreat where she lives a quiet life alongside roommate Reiko (Reika Kirishima). After a written correspondence with Toru, he eventually visits her to discuss where their future lies. The scenes between the two are beautifully shot, but ultimately hard to engage with. The dialogue is stiff, and the sense that there is any love between them is hard to believe given that it is only expressed vocally in very plain speech. Some explanation of their inner dialogues occurs by having them read out their letters as a voiceover, but a sense of true warmth and love between them still remains hard to swallow. It weakens the film enormously that the central relationship is so unbelievable.
What does work wonderfully well is the cinematography. Norwegian Wood is simply sumptuous to look at and has a clear artistic vision. Interior scenes are often shot in medium close-ups leading to a sense of claustrophobia – particularly in those scenes between Toru and Naoko. Tran also utilises very clear colour schemes, often bathing night time sets in just one colour – it’s unsubtle but beautiful. Interiors during daylight hours appear to be more naturally lit, utilising the daylight which streams in through the picturesque windows.
Exteriors are exquisitely shot. Wintry country scenes are framed fantastically and lush green countryside is displayed vibrantly. These beautiful vistas provide an instant and obvious contrast with the cluttered city sets of Tokyo. They are imbued, perhaps, with even more sadness as the camera lingers slowly and silently over vast expanses of emptiness. Such wonderful cinematography ensures that even in its more frustrating moments, Norwegian Wood remains extremely watchable.
Unfortunately, those frustrating moments occur too often. When translating a novel to the screen, one of the inherent dangers is that so much of what is written is not said (or at least said out loud). With Toru as the central character and commentator, Murakami’s novel has a depth and richness which is sadly lacking from Tran’s movie. It’s also a far more hurried version of the story with central characters marginalised to the point that their role in proceedings becomes puzzling – particularly Reiko’s surprising part in the story’s denouement.
Bringing Norwegian Wood to the silver screen was always likely to be challenging. And it’s a challenge which Tran Anh Hung only partially passed. His film is stylish and often visually stunning, yet lacks emotional depth despite some good acting performances. The plot moves inconsistently - too fast in parts, too slow in others - and ultimately characters’ motives are not as fully explored or explained as they might have been. Altogether, it’s an interesting yet flawed attempt. RW
Film: Bedevilled
Release date: 28th February 2011
Certificate: 18
Running time: 115 mins
Director: Jang Cheol-su
Starring: Ji Seong-won, Seo Yeong-hie, Park Jeong-hak, Hwang Min-ho, Min Je
Genre: Comedy/Crime/Drama/Horror/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: South Korea
A big hit at many 2010 film festivals, such as Cannes and Fantastic Fest, Jang Cheol-so’s film was always likely to achieve a DVD release in the UK. The director garnered a number of awards for his work on the movie – so having missed it at the cinema, is it worth hunting down a copy to watch at home?
Hae-won (Ji Seong-won) works in a bank in Seoul. After witnessing a violent crime, she is threatened and intimidated by a group of youths until she agrees not to testify. Frightened and angry, she returns to her office where she vents her frustration on an elderly customer. Her manager gives her little option but to take an enforced holiday, and given her state of mind, she opts on a restorative trip to visit her childhood friend on a nearby island.
Fifteen years after her last visit, Hae-won returns to Moo-do Island – the place her grandfather lived, and where she struck up a friendship with local girl Bok-nam (Seo Yeong-hee). Although her childhood friend is delighted to see her, it quickly becomes apparent that the rest of the small island community are not nearly so keen.
As the plot unfurls, it becomes increasingly clear why the other islanders are worried by Hae-won’s presence – it transpires that Bok-nam is being treated as little more than a glorified slave, punch bag and plaything. As the threat to her safety grows, so does the likelihood that she’ll seek retribution…
The opening scenes of the film are dispassionate and clinical. Concentrating solely on Hae-won’s reasons for seeking solace on Moo-do island presents the audience with a pretty dislikeable character. She’s cold, irritable and cowardly – not attributes an audience readily warms to. And so it proves. As she arrives on the island to outright hostility, it’s impossible to feel any sympathy for her, and this is a major flaw in the film – although it does raise the possibility that she will somehow redeem herself.
As the two female leads rekindle their friendship, we are slowly introduced to the idea that all is not well. It seems that other than an elderly and infirm man, the only other male characters on the island are Bok-nam’s husband, Man-jong, and his slack-jawed, mute brother. Their sneery indifference is threatening in itself, but they quickly reveal themselves to be even more worrisome.
It’s quickly established that the two are dangerous, immoral and violent. One particularly gruelling scene sees Man-jong’s brother having sex with Bok-nam. The idea in itself is repellent, but it’s also well shot in terms of creating a sense of violence and menace. He roughly forces himself upon her, and the visceral sex – filmed in a number of close-ups – makes extremely uncomfortable viewing.
Similarly, a sex-scene between Man-jong and a prostitute he’s had delivered to the island is a hard scene to watch. It’s extremely rough and misogynistic – and ultimately poignant, as the director cuts between shots of Man-jong (Park Jung-hak) forcing the prostitute to perform oral sex on him with shots of Bok-nam quietly eating her supper outside the room with the sounds of their meeting clearly audible.
Things become even bleaker as Bok-nam is repeatedly beaten, spat upon and insulted. When her young daughter becomes involved, things become even grimmer. Although never stated explicitly, it seems likely that she’s being groomed by the adult males – and perhaps even sexually abused. It’s subtly played by all concerned, but unfortunately, it’s arguably the last example of any tact being displayed.
It’s inevitable that the sexual (and possibly child) abuse and violence will have dire consequences, and so it proves as Bok-nam finally snaps. It’s an utterly predictable reaction and it’s filmed in an utterly predictable fashion. To say too much would be to give away the plot, but suffice to say that there is nothing on display which hasn’t been seen a million times before.
It’s a shame the story lapses into familiarity, as prior to Bok-nam ‘breaking’, the film was a much more interesting prospect. Although it’s almost relentlessly bleak, there were definite shades of The Wicker Man, as the sinister island community closed ranks against the interloper from outside.
Sadly, the character of Hae-won seems to serve merely as a device to illustrate the attitude of the islanders to outsiders. Once their attitude is established, she seems to disappear from the story altogether, but for a scene in which she is drugged and almost raped. She’s a peripheral character until the very end of the film, where she suddenly re-emerges - to the apparent benefit of nobody. A more unforgiving director or editor could probably removed her from the film altogether with very little impact on the overall feel of the movie.
Like Hae-won, the final act of the film completely outstays its welcome. It lapses into the worst kind of lazy cliché, and attempts to answer far too many questions. There would have been far more value in leaving some things unsaid or unanswered rather than trying to wrap everything up so neatly.
Bedevilled has moments of interest and a fine central performance from Seo Yeong-hee, but ultimately, the vast majority of the characters are one-dimensional and completely dislikeable. With judicious editing, there’s a decent film lurking in here somewhere, but as it stands, it’s bloated, flabby and predictable. Jang Cheol-so will have learned plenty of lessons from his directorial debut. RW
Film: Cannibal Girls
Release date: 14th February 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 80 mins
Director: Ivan Reitman
Starring: Eugene Levy, Andrea Martin, Ronald Ulrich, Randall Carpenter, Bonnie Neilson
Genre: Comedy/Horror
Studio: Nucleus
Format: DVD
Country: Canada
This is an English-Language release.
With the long rumoured Ghostbusters III finally officially confirmed, Canadian director Ivan Reitman will be revisiting one of his early successes. But long before he joined forces with Bill Murray, Dan Akroyd, Slimer et al, he was responsible for sleazy 1972 B-movie Cannibal Girls. Is it a film which has stood the test of time in the same way as Ghostbusters? And will he ever make a sequel?
The plot follows goofy Cliff (a very youthful Eugene Levy) and his girlfriend Gloria (Andrea Martin) as their car breaks down in a hick town in the middle of nowhere. Stranded until the vehicle is fixed, they are forced to crash at a local motel where the elderly female owner tells them the tale of a three young women who terrorised the town by taking young men to their home to cannibalise them.
In the interim, the girls’ home has become a restaurant – and despite their misgivings, Cliff and Gloria decide to go and eat there. Unsurprisingly, they’re the only patrons, as the strange proprietor, Reverend Alex St John (Ronald Ulrich), tells them more lurid tales and three beautiful waitresses serve their dinner. Having enjoyed their meal, and with the night drawing in, the young couple decide to stay the night.
In the middle of the night, St John enters their room and Cliff is tied to the bed as Gloria is implored to kill her boyfriend with a knife. She escapes and flags down a passing car – which is handily driven by the local doctor. Having been sedated, she awakens back in her room with Cliff. Was her nightmare night just a bad dream?
Cannibal Girls begins worryingly. Unless it’s directed by Mike Leigh, any film which proudly announces that the dialogue has been developed by the cast ought to set alarm bells ringing. And in this instance, it’s an entirely appropriate response. Further concerns are raised when captions announce that scenes of horror will be preceded by an alarm so that audience members can close their eyes to the grisly action. It’s clearly intended as a humorous conceit. Except it’s not at all funny.
The sound is generally poor throughout. Awful post-production effects have been added which sound only vaguely as they ought to – the sounds of axes thumping into human flesh sound more like someone dropping bags of sugar, and corpses hit the floor far too long after being felled. The dubbing is badly out of synch for much of the film.
The plot is similarly shambolic. Driven by the terrible dialogue, it seems confused and unfocused. The story of the cannibalistic trio takes far too long to unfold – it’s not at all necessary for the film to take so long establishing such a flimsy idea. It’s also quite misleading as it feels like it’s set to be the main strand of the story until it suddenly stops - a real dead-end.
The rest of the plot is predictably predictable. Dream sequences that may or may not be real, broken cars leading to characters being stranded, a policeman who may not be all he seems, a population who may be in on it, and a charismatic svengali who appears to be pulling the strings. It’s obviously a B-movie, and nobody would expect it to be plotted like Inception, but it still seems like very lazy film-making to rely on such obvious clichés.
The only character worthy of the name is Reverend St John. He’s a mysterious creation with more than a hint of vampire about him, a penchant for Shakespeare, and a harem of girls in thrall to him. He’s a preposterously over the top creation, but an entertaining one – and is played with camp relish by Ulrich. The other characters are half-drawn at best. The men look like they’ve kidnapped from 1970s football pitches – all massive moustaches and bubble perms. Levy’s appearance is impressive – his fur coat gives him a particularly pimpy air. Although he’s not nearly as furry as the bizarrely hairy upper arms of one of the incidental male characters. The womenfolk of the town barely feature unless they’re baring their breasts.
Usually a film like this can be slightly redeemed by a couple of good set-pieces or a smattering of decent jokes. Sadly, there are none to be seen. Thankfully Cannibal Girls is mercifully short. Yet despite clocking in at just 84 minutes, it still badly outstays its welcome with scenes dragging on and on forever. A more judicious editor might be able to make a fifteen minute short which was just about watchable. As it is, the whole affair is badly bloated.
There’s little of interest for anyone here except Reitman or Levy completists. The plot is full of gaping holes; the acting is shoddy, and the production values pitiful. Although everyone has to start somewhere, it’s difficult to believe that the man at the helm would later produce and direct classics like Ghostbusters. But having said that, he did also make Kindergarten Cop. RW
Film: Bare Behind Bars
Release date: 31st January 2011
Certificate: 18
Running time: 89 mins
Director: Oswaldo de Oliveira
Starring: Maria Stella Splendore, Marta Anderson, Danielle Ferrite, Neide Ribeiro
Genre: Action/Drama/Erotica
Studio: Arrow
Format: DVD
Country: Brazil
After initially been banned in the UK, Oswaldo de Oliviera’s lesbian prison flick Bare Behind Bars has now been passed for a DVD release following 95 seconds of cuts to remove scenes of fellatio and penetration. So what remains of the Brazilian’s sexploitation movie?
The storyline of Bare Behind Bars, such as it is, concerns an all-female prison in Brazil, the corrupt governor, an escape plan and a nymphomaniac nurse. It’s not a film which is overly concerned with plot or character development (the vast majority of the characters are not even given names), but would rather concentrate instead on a number of set-pieces.
What flimsy plot there is centres on a formulaic escape plot and the predictable aftermath. With the prison being run by an evil – and unhinged – governor, death, solitary confinement and punishment beatings are every day occurrences. It’s little wonder that, led by a new inmate, the prisoners are desperate to break out. Along the way there are appearances from lusty nurses and sadistic guards – and there’s barely a male character who doesn’t get laid. Typically clichéd scenes include the shakedown, trouble in the exercise yard and inmates escaping in terrible disguises…
The tone is set from the outset as busty prison staff chew their pencils whilst their unbuttoned blouses gape to reveal their suntanned cleavages. It’s immediately apparent that things will become sleazier as a relatively harmless basketball game is broken up by water-hose wielding prison staff. Predictably, the flimsy uniforms of the inmates are soon see-through (or removed altogether) as the audience is treated to their first display of gratuitous nudity. The aftermath shows what seems to be some indiscriminate whipping and torturing of seemingly innocent women. It’s a confused opening which fails to make any dramatic impact.
What is made clear is that the prison governor (Maria Stella Splondore) is a nasty piece of work. Her callous nature, insistence on using prisoners’ numbers rather than names, as well as her casual attitude to torture, point to her as being the villain of the piece early on. Despite her wooden performance, and some truly awful dubbing, it’s also made perfectly apparent that she’s mentally unstable. This is achieved by Splondore ending each of her scenes by narrowing her eyes and staring evilly into the middle distance.
Following a search of the cells, a prisoner is discovered with a cut-throat razor secreted inside of her. The removal of this introduces us to arguably Bare Behind Bars’ most interesting (yet preposterous) character: the nurse. Played with relish by Marta Anderson, she’s a sex-addicted ether junkie who supplies inmates with weapons after inventing tenuous excuses to get them alone in her office. Despite being utterly one-dimensional, she’s at least funny – and some light relief is much needed.
As the governor becomes more and more unhinged, she begins a relationship with a sexually rapacious newcomer, and becomes increasingly reliant on alcohol and drugs. Sensing an opportunity to usurp her boss, another guard begins to elbow her way into power. It’s just another example of an underdeveloped character in a dead-end subplot. Further inexplicable strands of the storyline concern a girl being held in solitary confinement (who still manages to have a sexual relationship through a hatch in the door), a delivery man who delivers more than just dry goods, and an utterly bizarre sex slave/prostitution story.
There’s little to admire about Bare Behind Bars. It’s clear that very few of the cast have ever acted before. Performances are unconvincing at best and often appalling. Worse still is the direction. De Oliviera seems convinced that naked women love being naked whilst bouncing and giggling - they do so in the exercise yard, in the shower, and in their cells. It’s a fantastic way of making women’s feminine assets wiggle and jiggle (which is obviously the intention) but a poor way of convincing a watching audience that anyone in the scene was really having any fun. Allied to the accompanying squealing and wailing, it’s an excruciating experience.
The sex scenes are almost as bad, consisting as they do of varying degrees of passionless dry humping and frottage, some vigorous groping of breasts, and some quite vicious kissing. Even scenes of masochistic whippings are half-hearted - the protagonists look like they’d rather be using their whips as skipping ropes than using them to inflict pain. It seems absurd that a film so obsessed with the representation of sex does it so badly.
Even worse is to come, though, as the film unravels completely in the final act. As even the excruciating sex scenes dry up, there is little left other than some exploitative nudity, some utterly predictable ‘plot developments’, and some particularly unconvincing editing – including one sequence which uses at least eight consecutive clumsy cross-fades. It’s remarkable that a film so uninteresting can become even more boring as it limps to its inevitable conclusion.
It’s hard to understand who the target audience for this release is. In an age where sexually explicit material is available at the click of a mouse, it seems that even the dirty mac brigade would struggle to find a use for this DVD. It’s badly scripted, clumsily directed, terribly acted and utterly clichéd. Worse still, it’s interminably boring. RW
Film: Of Gods And Men
Release date: 3rd December 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 121 mins
Director: Xavier Beauvois
Starring: Lambert Wilson, Michael Lonsdale, Olivier Rabourdin, Philippe Laudenbach, Jacques Herlin
Genre: Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: Cinema
Country: France
After winning the Grand Prix at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival, Of Gods And Men has now become France’s submission for the Best Foreign Language Film at the upcoming Oscars. Directed by Xavier Beauvois and based on the true story of seven French Trappist monks mysteriously beheaded in Algeria in 1996, the film focuses primarily on the events leading up to their deaths.
Set in rural North Africa, the movie is centred on a quiet monastery overlooking a quiet village. The eight monks who live within have developed a warm relationship with the villagers, dispensing advice and selling them their produce. More importantly, one of the monks, Luc (Michael Lonsdale), is a practicing doctor offering free out-patients treatment to the locals.
Their part in the peaceful community is threatened when Islamic Fundamentalists began to cause trouble in the region – culminating in the massacre of a group of Croatian construction workers. When the terrorists later seek medical attention at the monastery - following an unrelated incident - a moral dilemma over whether they should treat them occurs. This is the least of their problems, however, as it becomes increasingly apparent that their lives are in danger and their faith will be strongly tested…
Of Gods And Men is an understated, nuanced film. There are no set pieces, no dramatic speeches, no unnecessary flourishes. It opens simply, showing the quietly contemplative monks praying and singing. It’s an early indication of the measured simplicity of Beauvois’ approach to the subject matter. He efficiently establishes the warmth of the relationship between the monks and the villagers by following a young Algerian as he moves in and around the monastery, greeting the Frenchmen and chatting idly with them. It’s a clever scene, quickly introducing a rich cast of characters, a sense of their lifestyle and the community which exists between the Trappists and the Muslims.
Further illustrating the point, a wonderful tete-a-tete between Luc and a local girl makes explicit the respect in which the monks are held. She asks him what it feels like to be in love and his response indicates that he has had a substantial life prior to his being ordained as a monk. Luc’s evocative description of the emotions love engenders is utterly endearing and cleverly played – initially it seems that Luc’s love is for God. It’s only in the latter part of the conversation that it is made explicit that he has been in love a number of times prior to his finding God – his truest love. These hints at a previous life (and the fact that he is a doctor) are the only clues we are given to any of the monks’ back-stories.
Lonsdale is fabulous as the gruff Luc - Of Gods And Men is a film worth watching if only for the joy of seeing an ensemble cast of elderly men lighting up the screen with their very presence. The performances are uniformly excellent, suffused with warmth and sensitivity. Lived-in, wrinkled faces are well equipped to convey the quiet emotion contained within this film - a rueful smile, a slight wince or a crinkling of the eyes says as much as a thousand scripted words. Every single actor - regardless of the size of their role - imbues their character with an individuality created entirely through their own skill (even the sparse clothing of the monks offers no scope for individuality). A perfect example of this is Amédée (Jacques Herlin), the oldest of the monks, who probably has the least to say. Herlin‘s performance is pitch perfect - a beguiling mixture of tenderness, confusion and tolerance conveyed almost wordlessly through his expressive face.
As things become increasingly fraught, and the danger to the lives of the monks become increasingly tangible, their faith is tested and their resolve questioned. As they toy with the idea of leaving the monastery, they each have their own crises of confidence: how can there be a God in a world so cruel; do they belong in the wider world; can they abandon the village when it needs them most? Beauvois’ stance is to maintain a position of neutrality meaning that despite the enormous part which religion plays in the movie, enjoying it requires no religious faith on the behalf of the viewer. As the monks discuss their predicament and come to terms with their position, faith and religious belief are obviously at the head of the agenda. Yet the fact that they have such difficult decisions to make – even in the light of their religiousness – is not glossed over. One of them even invokes Pascal’s famous assertion that “Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from a religious conviction.”
The scene for which the film will be most remembered sees the monks gathered around a table sharing red wine. To say too much might give away the denouement of the story, but it’s safe to say that it’s one of the most wonderful scenes committed to celluloid in recent years as music from Swan Lake plays over their silent thoughts. The soundtrack might lack subtlety, but the performances do not. As the camera sweeps around the table, it seems to capture the inner thoughts of each participant. There is joy, sadness and - above all - love visible on every face. It’s a scene drenched in emotion and an acting masterclass from all concerned. Truly magnificent stuff.
Of Gods And Men is a beautifully made film, eschewing the high drama contained in the source material in favour of quiet contemplation and a celebration of humanity which, although informed by religion, is not defined by it. The calm, quiet direction allows the marvellous individual performances room to take the limelight - and they are thoroughly deserving of it. RW
